


Tales From The North

by phaetonequos



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: AU, Bifur is a stalker, F/M, Gen, Never before has anything I have ever written been on the internet oh god, Original Race ?, Series, Squintmance, Work In Progress, language barriers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phaetonequos/pseuds/phaetonequos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short-stories and oneshots that may, or may not, tie together the tales of two toymakers and a barbarian from the farthest reaches of the Cold Lands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hard Stares

As usual, before dawn, the clamor from the stable next door got to be too much for the two sleeping dwarves, and they reluctantly rose to the clatter of hooves, whinnying, and general hubbub of life abruptly starting up below.

And, as usual, Bifur was the first to go to the window and look out at the stable yard while he braided his beard with careful, practiced movements.

In the pre-dawn grayness, he could see her standing between two stallions, unchanging as always. Like a stone. The breath of the two beasts and the girl rose to mingle above their heads, and it occurred to him that she must have been waiting for the owners of the two horses; they were fine animals, and well behaved. As his fingers pulled through the wiry strands of his beard, Bifur mused that the girl looked particularly grim on this morning, though her face was always set in too serious an expression, and it was not helped by the severe braid that she always pulled her hair back in. As her hands adjusted their hold on the reins of the two fine mounts, the ruddy sheen of the copper cuffs around each of her wrists reminded him of why she was so grim.

The buying and selling of slaves was not something dwarves partook in, nor found particularly tasteful. His brother had often said that it wasn't their business, so they shouldn't go poking their noses into it, but it was...unjust, especially so in the case of this girl, Bifur felt. He had overheard a conversation about her one day; she was from the wild North, Forodwaith, from deep in the mountain ranges of the frozen lands that only the bravest -- or the greediest -- ventured to. The slave traders, upon discovery of the hardy barbarian tribes there, had begun to send raiding parties, who were little more than barbarians themselves, over the mountains to capture and kidnap what they could. More often than not, however, the tribes were willing to sell their younger members for the right price.

A stranger in a strange land, this one was. Her fair skin burned easily in the long summer suns this far south, she didn't understand more than a few words of Westron -- just enough to process basic orders --, and her stout frame, all of these combined to make the picture of an obvious foreigner. She had been stolen from her home, and he pitied her.

Bifur was roused from his thoughts of her by the girl herself, who had realized his stare and had turned a frigid glare up at him.

 _Did_ he pity her? She certainly didn't seem to want it.

She always noticed him looking at her, and she always became downright vicious when she did. Her gaze could have frozen boiling water. Of course, he wasn't an exception, she glared openly at everyone, save the man who owned her, who was kind to her, at least, kinder than her peers.

The barbarian girl glowered for a little longer -- _let that be a warning to him_ , he thought with mirth --, then turned away to circle the horses around the yard a few times.

The girl circled the horses to hide from the keen eyes of the raven-haired dwarf. He was always around, and it seemed like she couldn't turn around without spotting him watching her. She had long ago sated her curiosity about the dwarves who resided next door, but it seemed this one had not done the same with her. Many times, she had thought of lobbing a rock at him when he was outside, but she feared he would tell the man who looked after her, and she would be taken back to the trader. She hated being property, but refused to defy her current owner; she had been in worse places, and she would remember.

No, she would not throw a rock at the small man, but she _would_ show her displeasure at being watched constantly, like a mouse under a hawk's circling gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the introductory story, gentle readers. Let me know what you may like to see in the future, along with any criticism you might have to offer. <3


	2. Thieves

"Bifur!" Bofur's voice rang out across the cozy toy shop, "Leave that poor creature alone, for Mahal's mercy! 'M surprised she hasn't bashed that axe the rest of the way int' yer head." Normally the more even-tempered of the two, Bofur had watched Bifur scoot his stool over to the front window under the guise that he needed better light for what he was carving. It wasn't hard to track the path his eyes took, and he had watched Bifur watch the mountain girl for more than a month now. She was a pretty thing, aye, but he had never seen his cousin so preoccupied with anything that didn't involve making toys.

It was a little unsettling, if he had to give it a name.

Bifur looked appropriately contrite for several seconds, before the sound of a horse's distressed scream broke through the relative quiet of the afternoon, and he was whirling, an unkempt mass of black and silver hair whirling with him. Contrary to his words, it was both Bifur _and_ Bofur that were pressed against the dwarf-height window moments later. 

A great chestnut horse rose high above the mountain girl's head, eyes rolling in its skull. Horses were very good at looking utterly terrified when there was nothing really apparent to be terrfied of. 

However, the small female stood back quietly, the muscles in her thick arms taut as she held on and let the horse throw its fit, looking for all the world like she wasn't in the least concerned. Bofur himself thought she had a great many things to be concerned about as the huge destrier's hooves flailed in the air just feet above her head. 

The beast finally plunged to the ground again, heaving and blowing, and the stable lad that had been carrying far too many empty buckets for his arms had the decency to look guilty as they rolled away from him. 

Bofur made a noise in the back of his throat that was somewhere between awed and disturbed. 

"Stout lass," he uttered after a moment, side-eyeing Bifur, "maybe you should go tell her you fancy her?" He hummed, amusement coloring his words. Bifur deadpanned at the other dwarf. His humor was lackluster at times, and the older of the two told him so, in not so many words. 

"Don't get fresh, now, Bifur, s'rude to say things like that to good-natured folk." Bofur returned, a close-lipped smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He never meant any real harm by his jibing, just like he knew Bifur never meant any real harm when he growled insults at his cousin. 

In all seriousness, Bofur continued, "Why don't y'just buy the girl and set her free? I'm sure she'd be mighty grateful." He mused in low tones; they were wealthy enough, after settling up with what they were owed from Erebor's treasury. What could it hurt to help the girl?

Bifur had thought that very thing several times, but always quashed it. It was -- 

A great crash and clatter rose from outside, followed by the frightened bellowing of the red horse, which had just begun to calm. 

Without preamble, the big horse bolted, jerking the lead line from the mountain girl's hand. She let go quickly to avoid injury to herself, and the horse took off at a canter down the narrow street between the shop fronts, parting pedestrians as it went and disappearing from view in as little time as it took for the two dwarrows to process what had happened. 

Most of the attention on the narrow street then turned to the slave girl, and Bifur caught the look of sheer frustration on her face before she wiped it clean, once again, put her head down, and began to job after the animal, which nobody had seen fit to stop.

-

The summer sun of Dale was not a forgiving one, and she was already sweating from working in the yard all morning. The stone faces of the buildings around her only reflected the heat, and she internally cursed the foolishness of the people who occupied the city. Surely they would roast themselves alive this way? She had never seen so many buildings in her life, and never so many piled so carelessly atop each other. Much like the people who dwelled in them. 

Soon enough, she regretted the fact that her owner had not taught her more Westron sign language, because she was forced to pantomime a running horse to random passersby, and nobody seemed to want to tell a slave whether they had seen one, or not. She was also hopelessly lost. The horse was likely to have been caught by someone by now. 

Finally, a slouched old man pointed her -- literally -- in the right direction, and she took off at a sprint through the cobbled ways, the sound of her booted footfalls echoing off of shadowed walls. 

It was late afternoon when she found the lost mare, and the thieves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first few blurbs may be a little more cohesive than simple one shots, but introducing these particular characters doesn't seem appropriate to just throw around. 
> 
> Tune in next time, and maybe you'll learn mysterious mountain girl's name!


	3. Kiasax

The sharp echo of shod horse hooves invariably drew the attention of the two dwarves, who crowded in the shop's entrance to see the return of the missing horse and girl.

" _Gait is unsteady, the horse is limping._ " Bifur remarked in low Kuzdul as the sound drew closer, and they spilled from inside the shop to the dimly-lit street. Even now, shop owners were extinguishing their lamps in preparation for closing, ushering the last customers from their stores. Soon enough, they had a clear view of the lass and the red mare. An uncertain Bifur hung back while Bofur rushed forward. 

"What happened, lass? Are y'aright?" He questioned intently as he drew up beside her. A sideways glare was cast his way, and she did not answer. He could see a bruise forming across her high cheek, and she had many bleeding scrapes; clearly, there had been a tussle of some sort. The horse was certainly a fine creature, had she run into theives? 

The northern girl regretted for the second time that evening that she did not know more Westron sign, simply to get the dwarf away from her, why was he so concerned, in any case? Foolish man. Why couldn't he just mind his own business? Why couldn't they both? She continued to ignore him as she walked on with the limping mare, their pace slow and uneven; the horse had thrown a shoe during her mad cavorting through the cobbled streets, and now her foot was sore. Tears came unbidden to her eyes at the thought that her master would surely be upset with her for losing a prized animal like this one, and she cursed the horse silently. 

"What's yer name, girl?" Bofur asked gently, noticing the hitch in the girl's breath and immediately recognizing the signs of an oncoming breakdown. She only glared again, bless her, and he was forced to step aside or bowl Bifur over as they reached the other dwarf. The older of the two reached out suddenly and caught the girl's attention with a touch to her arm, and her sharp, now watery, gaze turned to him. Bifur began to sign slowly, and her eyes turned to his gestures, her thoughts visibly turning across her face as she tried to piece together what he was telling her. 

Bofur recognized the Westron word for  _trouble?_  

It seemed that the girl did, as well, because after a long moment, she nodded once. 

Then came the slow, tentative sign:  _name_ _?_  

Bifur thought she might not answer him, with the way she looked at him -- like he had just offered to curse her --, but after nearly a minute, she dropped the horse's lead -- the poor beast was too tired and too lame to go anywhere -- and lifted her hands to begin making the fumbling signs. Letters, mostly, for she didn't know the symbols for the word that made up her name in Westron. It was such a crude language, where everything was so literal. 

Bifur could have crowed with triumph as the slave told him her name in halting sign, and what a name it was; it fit her, as a name should. Bofur was the first one to break the silence: 

"Ki...Kiasax? That's y'name, lass?" Bifur hit his cousin in the gut for the look on his face, as if he was slightly disgusted by the word. It was the perfect name.  

Kiasax frowned heavily at the two, and stepped back, swallowing. She almost opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself at the final moment, face contorting into a grimace as she turned away and started to lead the horse back toward the stable, which was still bustling with activity even a this hour of the evening. The two dwarves did not try to stop her, and Bifur was feeling just fine with everything that had transpired -- seeing the girl injured still had him in a foul mood, but that could wait. 

Bofur voiced the question he had been thinking of for...well, for the longest time. 

"I know she doesn't speak much Westron, but she don't ever say anything, does she? I wonder why?" He wondered aloud, pulling his pipe from his belt and beginning to chew the mouthpiece in thought. 

" _Tongue is missing._ " Bifur replied without a moment's hesitation before moving off to dim the lights in the little toy shop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, dear readers, I've five days off from work for the holiday, so we'll see what kind of crap I can spew out in that time. 
> 
> In this short chapter, we learn "the girl"'s name, oh my gollies! And also why she doesn't talk. Yes, Bifur is completely serious, and yes, he's completely right. 
> 
> Any suggestions? Let me know! <3


	4. Before Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mutilation? Nothing too graphic, I hope.

_Gravel bit into her knees, and she knew there would be bruises, but that was the least of her concerns now. Slavers were a suspicious and superstitious bunch, and she had spoken in her native tongue, spat at them, called them cowards, and horse-fuckers... They thought she had cursed them, and so a short, sharp knife was in the fire, the metal turning red as two restrained her, and a third stood by to assist, should she cause trouble._

_She could have scoffed, if she hadn't been frightened beyond humor; trouble was nothing short of everything she had given them, and yet they still kept her, still tied her, still shoved her in that rancid cage every day._

_The knife was removed from the flame, and a large, rough hand on her jaw... no, two hands pulling her mouth open, prying her jaw down painfully. Kiasax jerked back against her holders, but hot metal filled her mouth, making her gag, and she was screaming..._

The girl awoke with a gasp that filled her lungs to the very bottoms, and in the cool, pre-dawn light, she remembered where she was. 

Though the copper bracelets still weighed her arms down, she was in the dwarf-home, and was...relatively safe. The safest she had been since being taken from her home, at least; the two fed her, spoke in soft tones to her, and had kind eyes. In fact, she reminisced as she rolled onto her side, pressing her hand to the warm lumber beneath her bedroll, the only time she ever heard one of them raise his voice was to the other, and it was usually the old one. There was not a word in her tongue for Bifur's age, so he was simply 'the old one', or the one who spent the most time with her, the one who wanted her to trust him so badly that she couldn't help but laugh sometimes at the irony. 

He acted around her like she was a wild horse, most times, only soothed with gentle motions and a kind word, though, she never understood what he said, so he had lapsed into silence around her, of late, using only the common, simple words she knew in sign. 

Yes, her new owners were kind, and she found herself making that strange noise in the back of her throat that constituted as laughter for her, but... 

 _Laughter_ did not settle the burning void inside her, the incessant calling of her homeland. 

And so, in the grey-blue dark before the sun rose, and before her masters awoke, she would foment to herself. A plan. An escape. Somehow, though she had thought about it, it hadn't seemed possible, or tangible, with her previous owner. Now, however, it was like a switch had been twisted inside her, igniting fuel long cold within her heart. Maybe it was the life of the dwarves, their energy, their fierce pride that reminded her of the mountains, and the trees, and the snow, and the eagles of the North. 

It was often that she went down to the toy shop with her thoughts racing, her mind turning in energetic circles, where she would receive a kind good morning from Bofur, and an approving nod from Bifur, but the keen eyes of the older dwarf _were_ like those of the eagles in her homeland, and she would often shrink from him like she shrunk from no one. Kiasax often thought that he could see her whirling mind, and that he would know of her desire to leave. 

It was in Bifur's nature to know things. 

 


	5. Bear

"Bear!" Bofur crowed after a time, triumphant. He brought his pipe to his grinning mouth, eyes crinkled at the corners, looking gleeful. 

Kiasax looked frustrated. She had just spent the last fifteen minutes pantomiming what a bear was, and having Bifur teach her the sign for the animal, but there was so much more to it. All of this to try and explain what her name meant to the two dwarves, and she had only just gotten the first word. So, she looked to Bifur for help, while Bofur guessed. 

"Bear...scream, no, bear voice! Well, I can see how...there's more? Alright," Bofur paused, squinting at Bifur, who was signing at a blinding rate, trying to explain the grammatical consistencies to the girl's name... 

"Bear Whose Voice. Now, that makes a might more sense, go on." It was barely-controlled chaos, but Bofur was happy to watch Kiasax's hands grow increasingly more violent in their attempt to get words she didn't know across to Bifur, who was left to scramble them out, with his already addled brain. It was rather like watching two chickens run around after having their heads sliced off. 

Finally, after maybe half an hour, Bifur managed to puzzle out the last of Kiasax's name, and let out a sigh, with a great nod of his head, showing he understood. He turned to Bofur and brought all the words together in a long arc across his chest. 

"Bear Whose Voice Makes The Rocks Tremble. Oi, lass, I'm glad that's not your actual name, it's quite long." Bofur observed, but he chewed the end of his pipe thoughtfully, while Bifur tugged on the end of his beard, both contemplating just what was in her name. 

"Aye, it fits." Bofur decided after several minutes, during which Kiasax lurked, looking sullen at just how much effort she'd had to put out to explain something so simple. The girl was every sense of the word; powerfully-built, complete with a fiery personality that both shocked and delighted he and his cousin on a daily basis. She was quite blunt, and seemed to have no patience for horsing-around, or nonsense. 

Across from him, Bifur agreed with a thunderous phrase in Khuzdul, which made Bofur grin again. 

_'A fine name, for a fine creature.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then! Two updates in a day! 
> 
> Just a short little thing that popped into my head and was cute; wordless Kiasax trying to explain what her name meant to curious dwarves.
> 
> I'm thinking of doing a spinoff of this, in which Kiasax has escaped from Dale rebuilt, and has gone north again, only to come across some chaps of an unsavory nature, who may be more like her than dwarves. We'll see.

**Author's Note:**

> Thus ends the introductory story, gentle readers. It's a little lackluster, and I hope to change that with the next one. Please let me know what you may like to see in the future, or leave any criticism. <3


End file.
